Page 25 of Pulse Zero
“Your personality is a red flag.”
We glared at each other for a full ten seconds before I dropped the act and grinned.
“You’re judging me for pineapple while you literally abduct people for money.”
He turned back to his computer. “Priorities.”
I laughed a genuine laugh for the first time in days.
I’m still replaying that conversation from yesterday in my head when the door to my cell opens close to dinnertime.
Reese jerks his head. “Let’s go.”
I stretch on the bed before swinging my legs over the side and standing. As I approach him waiting in the doorway, I say,“One of these days, you’re going to string more than five words together and I might pass out from shock.”
No response.
Shocking.
But the moment I step into the open part of the basement, I stop.
Because I smell it.
Warm. Savory. Familiar.
My eyes land on his desk, and there’s apizzabox sitting there.
My heart does something weird and stupid and completely inappropriate for a hostage situation.
“Is that—”
I don’t even finish the sentence before I’m already moving. He lets me get all the way to his desk and open the box. I’d wonder if maybe we were developing some kind of trust if I wasn’t distracted by my mouth already watering.
Half pepperoni. Half Hawaiian.
I turn slowly to look at him. His arms are crossed, his expression flat. Controlled. Completely unreadable.
“Why?” I ask, my voice softer now, surprised in a way I don’t let myself be about anything anymore.
“Don’t read into it. You need the calories.”
“Uh huh. Sure.” I can’t stop the grin that stretches across my face as something warm and soft blooms in my chest. “I told you you like me.”
“You’re insufferable when you’re hungry.”
“I’m insufferable all the time.”
“That’s true.”
My grin grows.
His jaw tightens. “Sit down, Cason.”
For the first time since my dad died, the name doesn’t remind me of all the times I convinced myself he hated me.
I take a seat in my usual spot, but I don’t take my eyes off him as he puts two slices on a plate, hands it to me, and cuffs my left wrist to the pipe.
This, this small, stupid, ridiculous thing, feels more dangerous than the gun ever did.
